


Shadows Over Denerim

by HamJuice



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted Murder, Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age), Light Angst, Other, Red Herrings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamJuice/pseuds/HamJuice
Summary: Swooping is bad...
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 3





	Shadows Over Denerim

**Author's Note:**

> Here's how I wish the quest went. Purely self-indulgent!

The vellum crinkled under Fenmyelan’s grip as she read the letter. Her thumb idly traced over the royal seal, the contents of the letter hardly matching the pomp of the materials used to craft it. Venatori. It just had to be the Venatori. Fen poured over the letter again, painfully aware her advisors anticipated her next move. 

_ Why aren’t the crises ever close to Skyhold?  _

“This mission requires stealth,” Leliana was the first to break the long silence. Fen was already well aware Josie would have no solutions for this particular problem. No amount of favors and bribes could stop the Venatori. The rest was up to Cullen and Leliana. 

“I disagree,” Cullen argued. “We should send troops. We need to be seen clearing out these fanatics and be seen doing it.” 

“That could put Alistair in danger,” Leliana retorted. “So many bodies, we’ll lose him in some foolish skirmish.” 

Fen did not bother to look up from the paper to face her advisors. Both had valid points and both would be determined to have their way. 

“Cullen, how fast can a complement of 100 soldiers be in Denerim?” Fen began to roll up the missive. 

“Within the week at a fast march.” 

“Leliana how fast could your mounted agents arrive?” 

“Four days.” 

Fen paused to weigh her options. When the solution became clear a smile crept onto her face. Diversions were always fun. 

“Lels, choose three elven agents to accompany me to the capital. Send word ahead that we will be incorporated amongst the staff. Cullen, have a march of 100 soldiers meet us there. Loranil will be the head of the regiment.” 

“Why him?” Cullen asked confused. “I don’t mean to question! I am just curious as to why- Maker’s breath…” 

“Cullen you’re overthinking things. Relax.” Fen laughed and handed over Alistair’s letter to be filed by Leliana. “Elven agents ensure we are overlooked. I’ll assume the Venatori are hidden among the staff and there are always Elves in the kitchens.” She paused briefly that Leliana might give her approval. “And I personally would love Loranil to help because, well, why not?”

“By all means clue us into the rest.” Leliana teased. 

***

The ground seemed to rumble as Inquisition soldiers marched into Denerim. Loranil rode ahead, hiding his discomfort with Shemlen armor well enough for no one to notice. How they wore such bulky armor all the time was beyond him. His mind went blank as King Alistair came forth flanked by two heavily armored guards to greet the Inquisition. He looked a little unkempt as if he had been previously rushing to meet them on time. 

With a deep breath, Loranil dismounted, gripping his missive under his arm as he willed himself forward to meet the King. Twenty-three years with the Dalish did little to prepare him for Human diplomacy but Fenmyelan had faith in him. He wouldn’t let her down, not when she had so much faith in him.

“My lady Inquisitor regrets her absence this day,” Loranil spoke first for the fear he wouldn’t remember to speak in the first place. Even with his time at Skyhold, he had yet to meet a human lord, now he was meeting with the King of Fereldan. “She desired to be here her duties called her elsewhere.” 

“Quite a group you have here.” Alistair eyed the soldiers, seeming to ignore what Loranil had said. “I suspect this is her Worship’s response to the Venatori plot?” 

“Significant threats require significant force.” Loranil bowed once more. The King didn’t seem to like it. “If it pleases your majesty, the Inquisitor suggests you resume your daily duties as you would any other day. We are simply here to deter any rash actions.” 

“And you’ll just be around?” King Alistair gestured to the regiment awkwardly. 

“Rest easy, your majesty,” Loranil bowed his head. “We’ll take care of these Venatori.” 

***

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Alistair as he poured over documents from the assorted Banns and Teyrn’s of Fereldan. Most were land disputes, some complained about resources. It was times like these when Alistair really missed Amell; with just a glance she’d silence them all. The rest were heated missives about him not attending the ball at the Winter Palace. As if he’d go in the first place; he dared not brave Orlesian politics without Amell. He hoped she was safe wherever she was. Blight be damned he wanted her back cure or no cure. 

He slumped back into his chair, the velvet upholstery doing little to cushion his landing. He wasn’t sure what to make of such a large force in the palace. Eamon had given him an earful about letting in such a large force. Something about a coup; Alistair wasn’t really listening. Alistair didn’t really care. 

With a sigh, he dove back into his work, tossing papers aside as he read them. Outside seemed louder than normal but he didn’t think anything of it. To his great annoyance, the commotion grew louder and Alistair shouted at them to quiet down. His command was met with his office door being kicked down. 

A kitchen servant tumbled in, knife in hand, muttering something Alistair could not comprehend. What he could understand is they very much wanted to kill him as he lunged knife first in his direction. Before his attacker could gain ground they fell to the ground with a thump. One of his guards appeared behind, their sword bloodied but ready to strike again. 

Alistair figured there was no time like the present and grabbed his wife’s sword off the wall, moving to lunge at the next oncoming attacker. He found himself forced back by something he could not see. Panic began to rise in him as the first of his two guards fell, the other not yet drawing their sword. He scrambled for his blade, readying himself for the Venatori’s charge but it never came. 

His remaining guard partially unsheathed his sword to block a sweeping strike across his middle. Before the madman could attack again the guard grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head into the wall rendering him unconscious. To his surprise, the felled guard simply stood up and began binding the Venatori’s arms and legs. Why feign death?

For another few moments, he stood dumbfounded, trying his best to unravel what happened. All attempts seemed futile as he finally fumbled out, “what the fuck just happened?” 

The guard turned and bowed before bringing each gauntlet-clad hand to their head, pulling off his helmet. Alistair was surprised to find he was a she and that she was the Inquisitor; her white hair and yellow eyes left little room for guesswork; reports had always been very critical of her appearance. 

“Ir abelas, my King,” she bowed low, tucking her helmet beneath her arm. “I admit my soldiers were a bit of a red herring. My agents and I arrived days before and were able to root out where most of these madmen were hiding.” 

Alistair paused before answering, his eyes fixed on his would-be murderer. “So you couldn’t have sent a letter or something before I was scared almost shitless?” 

“Unfortunately I had no way of knowing which of your staff was guilty. Stealth was prudent for this task. The troops were meant to push the Venatori to panic into error.” Fen laughed a little easing the atmosphere of the room. “Besides, I couldn’t lose the only noble I don’t despise entirely. If you were Orlesian I’m not sure I would have even read your letter.” 

Alistair settled into a peal of uneasy laughter. “Don’t despise completely? Have I offended my good lady?” 

“Perhaps I spoke too soon.” She offered. “Nevertheless, the Venatori threat has been dealt with. I will take this man for interrogation and execution. With your blessing, I wish to leave one of my people here. She will report to you directly and ensure no more threats arise.” 

“Must he be executed?” Alistair peered over her shoulder to look at his would-be murderer. 

“This man has attempted regicide,” Fen argued. “Also these Vints enslave Elves. I have a personal score to settle with this lot.” 

Alistair felt the finality in her words. There would be no debate and there would be little point. She was right; regicide cannot stand. And, he supposed, she was right about the slavery in Tevinter. Guilt crept in as he considered the Alienage but he quickly pushed it away; one problem at a time. 

“Well, thanks, your Worship.” Alistair extended his hand almost retreating when her nose wrinkled. “For saving me and stuff. If I died, my wife would kill me.” 

She took his hand and shook it firmly. “My friends call me Fen so, by all means, please do.” 

“Alright, Fen.” He shrugged. “I suppose you’re going back to Skyhold?” 

“Unfortunately, I have to prepare for the Winter Palace,” her eyes rolled drawing a laugh from Alistair. “Let me know if any more problems arise. Leliana says hello, as well.” 

“I’m glad she’s well.” Alistair hesitated for a moment before leaning in to whisper. “You don’t happen to know where Ame- Queen Cousland is, do you? If anyone can know it would be Leliana.” 

The smile fell from Fen’s lips and Alistair’s stomach sunk. “She is well but I don’t know where she is. If I knew I would send Inquisition forces to help her.” 

Alistair sighed. “Well. It was worth a shot.” 

With a smile, Fen turned to excuse herself. “She’ll come back.” 

"I know she will." 


End file.
